


a little color on a greyscale

by mymostimaginaryfriend



Category: Queen of the South (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jeresa, Panic Attack, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, let the poor girl rest, listen teresa has been through a lot, mid season 1 AU, that shit adds up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 00:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mymostimaginaryfriend/pseuds/mymostimaginaryfriend
Summary: Being afraid for her life was just the baseline measurement of Teresa's existence now.  It ranged from apprehension to terror, but it never went away.OR Teresa has a panic attack and unluckily or luckily for her, James is there. Mid-Season 1 AU.





	a little color on a greyscale

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fic in like a decade (so please please keep that in mind) but this idea came to me during my recent season 1 rewatch and here we are. 
> 
> Title from Before the Fire by Santigold.

To be honest, the last drop of the day had felt off from the start. It didn’t help that James had been on edge all afternoon, wearing on Teresa’s frayed nerves until she wasn’t sure if the feeling in the pit of her stomach was a warning or the natural reaction to being under his intense scrutiny all day.

Not that his demeanor revealed much; as always, his aviators and poker face remained firmly in place. But as the days passed, and the hours of sitting in his passenger seat ticked by, Teresa had picked up on a few of his tells. She wasn’t quite fluent in his body language yet, but the set of his shoulders and the incessant fidgeting of his hand on the car window sill kept snagging her attention. Something was simmering below the surface. Maybe it was just irritation or maybe it was something more.

Maybe he was just pissed off about being relegated to babysitting duty so often lately. After Teresa’s first solo drop resulted in a body count and her own kidnapping, Camila had been reluctant to allow her unmonitored missions. She knew it wasn’t a concern for her safety: Camila was merely protecting her investment. An acknowledgment that one way or another--just like James had told her--she was trouble.

It had been a long day, and while James hadn’t been as much of an ass as he could be, he’d clearly had had enough of her. That was okay. She was sick of him too. She was sick of constantly having to evaluate how trustworthy he was in any given moment, tired of having to decide if his advice was manipulation or sympathy. Sick of his impatient lessons, his neverending surveillance. Sick of being unable to have a moment’s peace or the chance to process anything without him observing it and filing it away for whatever purpose that suited him---whether it be Camila’s or his own.

And so, after a last sidelong glance at his frowning face, she rolled her head toward the window in an effort to shut off her survival instinct’s nonstop vigilance for one goddamn second. She wanted--needed--a moment to simply enjoy the breeze on her face, to find peace watching the sun slide slowly down the sky. One minute of reprieve from the warehouse and the cages, time to let her guard down and _rest_. She was exhausted. And while James had directly and indirectly taken many things from her, he was currently giving her what she craved most---silence.

The quiet continued even after they were parked down a side street across from a five-story, cement block apartment building. James hadn’t turned off the car yet, choosing to surveil the area for a few minutes instead. It all looked normal to her, almost familiar actually. Something about the way dusk was settling in around the dilapidated rectangular block building reminded her more of home than the houses of the Dallas neighborhoods she’d seen so far. Fluorescent lights flickered to life over the open air hallways and metal doors.

James sniffed, rubbed his hand over his beard and cut the engine, answering her unasked question as he opened his car door.

“I’ve never been here before. We usually meet this shithead at his shop.”

Teresa reexamined the building as she got out of the car, but nothing really stuck out. After all, every drop was an unfamiliar and potentially dangerous environment for her. Being afraid for her life was just the baseline measurement of her existence now. It ranged from apprehension to terror, but it never went away.

Yet James being wary gave her pause. In their short time together, she had learned to gauge his reactions like a barometer to alert her to potential danger. It occurred to her that she’d come to rely on that stability in the daily chaos of her new life. The realization unsettled her in more ways than one.

“You don’t like him?” she asked, coming to stand beside him on the sidewalk.

He adjusted the strap of the duffle bag across his chest and curled his lip.

“I don’t like anybody.”

Teresa rolled her eyes but still noticed him reach behind his back to absently check his firearm as they crossed the street. He caught her looking when he took off his sunglasses and grimaced.

“Tito’s crew is just...I don’t know. Messy.”

Did that mean dangerous? “Unprofessional?”

He scoffed and shouldered the stairwell doorway open. “Messy.”

She tried to let it go but it was as if James’ hypervigilance had set root at the base of her skull, tugging on a memory she couldn’t quite reach. From the vague sense of dread that seeped into her stomach, it wasn’t a good memory but that didn’t mean much. She never had a lot of those to begin with.

So she said nothing of the sudden tightness in her chest and followed James in silence as he jogged up a few steps to a landing. A light was blown out in the stairwell and the gathering dusk lengthened the shadows of the adjacent corridor. She didn’t realize how close she was following James until he paused mid-step to check the apartment number signage and she clipped his arm with her shoulder. He looked down at her, swiftly taking in her proximity and then the empty corridor around them.

Teresa chose to ignore the tick of his eyebrow and cleared her throat. “Which way?”

James eyed her for a moment then headed left. “Down here.”

Teresa took a quick glance behind them and hurried to catch up. James was already knocking on a door and she had to shake herself to focus over the low buzzing in her ears. A skinny guy in cowboy boots and a ratty t-shirt answered and James pasted on his slick politician smile---the one that wasn’t really a smile if you took the second to actually look at it.

“Hey Pauly, what’s up? Is he here?” His voice matched his smile---painfully fake to Teresa, but the guy ate the glad-handing act up whole.

“James!” Pauly crowed and ushered them inside with a clap on James’ back and an appraising glance at Teresa. “He’s wrapping something up but I’ll let him know you’re here. Want a beer?”

James’ jaw ticked in annoyance at the delay but the bullshitting smirk remained in place. “Nah man, we’re good.”

They followed Pauly down a narrow entryway into a cramped living area. With each step, Teresa was sure something was off about the place. She knew it was impossible but her intuition was warning her that she had been here before. She didn’t see anything dangerous, just some mismatched furniture and the flickering light of a TV from a room at the far end of the hall. It sounded like someone was watching a futbol game.

“Wait here, he’ll be ready in a minute.” Pauly ducked inside what must be Tito’s office and closed the door behind him.

James was bitching about something but Teresa barely noticed. Her breath felt shallow, her mouth was dry and she swayed a little on her feet.

James glanced at her, then paused for a longer look. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Teresa murmured not even bothering to make eye contact with him. Her eyes were stuck in a continuous loop around the apartment. Looking for danger. Looking for exits. As far as she could tell, there was only one way in, one way out.

“Nothing,” James repeated flatly, then gestured at her with his elbow, lifting her hand with the movement--the hand, that unbeknownst to her, was gripping the sleeve of his hoodie.

She let go of him and took a step back, floored by her actions. She was practically glued to his side and hadn’t noticed. She swallowed thickly, wiping her palm on her jeans, avoiding James’ incredulous stare.

He ducked his head to search her face. “What is it?”

She didn’t know, to be honest, but she couldn’t find the words to explain so she tossed her head away and pushed her hair back from her face.

“Teresa.”

James’ low voice reclaimed her attention and she let herself focus on him, surprised when the eye contact bolstered her strength. James’ brown eyes were alert but unafraid and she let his calm spread over her. She licked her lips and managed a nod.

He seemed unconvinced but she was saved from further interrogation when Pauly opened the door and waved them inside.

“He’s ready for you….What’s wrong with her?” Pauly jerked his chin in her direction and James took half of a step in front of her, obstructing Pauly’s view.

“Nothing man, you know how it is with--”

And logically she knew he was just saying shit to move the conversation along but it still sent a spike of impotent rage through her. She was so tired of being a pawn in someone else’s dangerous games, having to play along just to stay alive.

“Sorry,” she interrupted. ”Which way is the bathroom? I’d like to splash my face.”

James shook his head. “Hold on a sec--”

But she jerked her arm away from his reaching hand and raised her chin to speak to Pauly. “Long day,” she gave him a faint smile and looked back at James. “You know how it is.”

James narrowed his eyes at her but said nothing as Pauly directed her toward the room with the TV playing. “Through there, darlin’.”

Her annoyance fueled her down the hall and distracted her from her anxieties but when she ducked around the corner into the room, the fear roared straight back to the surface, even stronger than before.

Time froze as she took in the dingy bedroom, eyes jumping from the group of men clustered around the TV to the mattress on the floor in the corner. With a rush of panic, her déjà vu snapped into place and she wasn’t in Dallas anymore. She was trapped in Guero’s safe house back in Culiacán and the man who walked out of the bathroom buckling his belt was not one of Tito’s men but Gato, there to finish the job. Her peripheral vision went black and the only thing she registered over the roaring in her ears was a horrible, hoarse scream.

The wretched noise released her muscles into motion so suddenly that she stumbled as she scrambled back, dragging herself toward the doorway. The men had jumped to their feet, but she couldn’t comprehend their shocked expressions, only that their movement toward her was a threat.

She hit something solid behind her and whirled, striking and scratching, into the wall of James’ chest. His face was stunned and he lifted his arms first in self-defense and then to grab for her elbows. She desperately clutched at him and though she tried to gasp words past her raw throat, nothing coherent came out. Something terrifying flashed in his eyes when he finally got a good look at her face. Suddenly, he had her swung behind him, his gun unholstered and pointed toward the men in the room.

She didn’t remember much after that, just vague impressions of James’ furious voice, her forehead pressed between his shoulder blades, the alarmed outcry from the men, the shouted questions from Pauly. James grabbed her by the waist, wedged his shoulder under her arm and manhandled her down the hallway, dragging her out the front door. He hauled her up the stairs before she was even able to get her feet underneath her.

She couldn’t breathe until they burst out the metal doors onto the sidewalk but no matter how deep she drank the cool night air she still felt like she was drowning. James jerked the car door open and heaved her into the passenger seat.

“Teresa,” he murmured voice rigid yet soft. “Teresa, you have to let go of me so we can get outta here.”

She just stared at him uncomprehendingly until he turned his arms in her grip to slide his hands around her wrists. “Just breathe, okay. Slow breaths. C’mon, Teresa. Close your eyes and breathe.”

She gripped him so tightly it would bruise but did what he said. One breath. Two. She could feel his pulse under her fingertips, or maybe it was hers. Either way, it was a reminder, a mantra. She was still here; she was still alive.

When he attempted to pull away again, she let him and then they were driving, speeding away into the night. Teresa turned her face to the window letting the exhaustion take her over and the wind dry the tears off her cheeks. Her fingers were numb, her limbs like lead. She sank back into the seat and slipped away.

When she came back to herself, the car was parked in an empty lot next to a playground and she was alone. She felt lethargic and sore and so, so tired. Her brain was slow to fill in the blanks of what had happened, but then it came back to her in mortifying detail. She hated to contemplate what she may have said to James or what power she had handed over to him now.  There wasn’t much left she had to give. With shaky hands, she pushed up the bulky fabric of her sleeves and realized she was wearing James’ hoodie. She saw him then, leaning against the hood of the car, lighting a cigarette.

As if he could feel her gaze, he turned, looking at her through the windshield with an inscrutable expression. He stood up and made his way to the driver’s side, opening the door and climbing inside.

He sat in silence, smoking and staring straight ahead as she rubbed her face and wiped her eyes. He didn’t say anything, didn’t demand an answer or even ask a question. He just glanced over, tossed out his cigarette and lit another. He leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

Once again she found herself resting in the silence with him, recognizing it now for what it was---a gift.

“You won’t have to go back there again,” he said quietly after what could have been minutes or hours. “I’ll take care of it.”

The kindness choked her a little. The strangled noise she made causing James to turn his head and open his eyes. His face was gentler than she’d ever seen it, his gaze full of understanding. But as soon as she could comprehend it, he was staring straight ahead again, face as smooth and unforgiving as stone. He started the car and put it into reverse.

She almost hated him for it: for showing her his humanity. It didn’t feel like a miracle. It felt like a curse.

But then she remembered, that when she had been trapped staring into the abyss, James had seen her. That when she was in trouble---when she was in hell, barely able to think through her panic---she had screamed and James had come running. He had saved her, if only from her own demons.

He hadn’t left her behind.

She wouldn’t forget it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked it. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @ mymostimaginaryfriend


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